


vena amoris

by oryx



Category: Ultraman Zero - Fandom, ウルトラシリーズ | Ultra Series
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: The UFZ versus the customs of unfamiliar planets.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Accel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accel/gifts).



> i have this saved as "take a fuckin sip babes.doc"

The creatures on this planet are alarmingly friendly.  
   
“Only natural, ain’t it?” Glen says, from where he’s reclining back against a nearby sand dune, hands laced together behind his head. “We just saved their hides.”  
   
“Yeah, but – ” Zero breaks off to smile and nod at the one handing him some kind of exotic fruit basket, which he cradles awkwardly in his palm, unsure of what he’s meant to do with it, as the fruit itself is far too tiny for him to eat with any ease. “I’m all for folks building statues in our honor, but this is a little much even for me, y’know?”  
   
“I told you we should have just left as soon as the mission was over,” Mirror says. He seems entirely unconcerned, however, holding out a hand so that the denizens can twine flowery wreaths around his fingers. “I’ve heard about this planet. It’s a notorious tourist trap, and that’s just for your average daytripper from the next nebula over. Anyone who stops them all from getting blown up is sure to get the royal treatment.”  
   
“Ridiculous, is what all of this is,” Jean-bot mutters, a sullen glow to their eyes. They don’t even seem to notice the multiple alien children clambering over their feet like it’s some sort of playground. “Honorable warriors shouldn’t need any reward for a job well done.”  
   
“Oh lighten up, grilled chicken,” Glen says with a dismissive wave of his hand, a wisp of errant flame licking the air and startling a few of the gathered residents. “Nothin’ wrong with some downtime now and then.”  
   
Jean-bot’s eyes flash darkly. “I’ll have you know there were at least two more SOS signals on the monitor back at the base when we left. What about those people, hmm? You just plan to let them – ”  
   
“Those were nothin’, we already checked,” Glen says with a yawn. “And we left Hunk o’ Junk #2 back there just in case, remember? You sayin’ you don’t trust your precious lil bro to take care of things – ”  
   
“Gracious,” Mirror sighs, cutting him off before this can go any further. “Even on a vacation destination planet you two can’t give it a rest. I hope you know you’re giving our cute leader a headache.”  
   
Zero hadn’t even realized that he’d been rubbing his temples wearily, and he lets his hand fall away as he huffs out a quiet laugh. “I mean… It’d be nice if you guys could flirt a little less angry-like for a while, but I guess that might be asking too much.”  
   
Glen and Jean-bot stare at him in silence for a long moment before erupting into heated protests, causing several of the residents (which look a bit like scaly aquatic Pigmons, now that he thinks about it) to scatter in alarm. Their objections begin to fade only when they all notice a procession coming up over the dunes: someone who looks to be the chieftain of the denizens, accompanied by an entourage carrying a strange cargo. An empty green bowl, lacquered and decorated with a swirling pattern that resembles waves, large enough in size for the UFZ but enormous when compared to these tiny creatures, who seem to be laboring under its weight. It takes them ages to make their way across the beach, and when they finally lower the thing on to the sand near Zero’s foot they all have to take a moment to catch their respective breaths.  
   
The chieftain approaches them, gesturing towards it animatedly. Their tone of voice seems curious, hopeful even, and Zero exchanges a glance with the other three.  
   
“Any of you have any clue what they’re asking us?”  
   
Mirror tilts his head to the side. “I think… perhaps we’re meant to drink from it.”  
   
“There’s nothin’ in it, though,” Glen says, peering down at it curiously, but no sooner have the words left his mouth than the bowl begins to fill with a clear liquid, bubbling up from some unseen source.  
   
“Suspicious,” Jean-bot mutters, and gets sand kicked at them by Glen a moment later.  
   
“C’mon, it’s only right to be a good guest and partake.”  
   
He picks it up with surprising delicacy and stares into it for a moment before shrugging and taking a sip. Zero and the other two watch him anticipatorily, waiting for some kind of negative reaction, but in the end he simply ‘hmm’s to himself and hands the bowl to Zero.  
   
“Kinda tastes like… _light_ ,” Glen says. There’s a frown in his voice. “And something sorta metallic. And something else too, but I dunno what to call it. Like that taste you get in your mouth when you’ve been out in space too long.”  
   
“…Right,” Zero says, deadpan. “So it tastes like space and light.”  
   
Glen turns to glare at him. “You try it and tell me it doesn’t.”  
   
Zero lifts the bowl in a toast (like he remembers the humans doing back on Earth) before downing a mouthful.  
   
It’s certainly the strangest thing he’s ever drank – not warm or cool, but some indecipherable temperature in the middle that doesn’t even register in his mind. The metallic bite that Glen mentioned is definitely present, as is the odd taste of outer space, the kind that settles in the back of your throat after traveling the breadth of an ancient solar system. The sensation of “light,” however, is nowhere to be found; instead he is overwhelmed by a burnt, charred taste, potent and yet somehow not unpleasant.  
   
“Huh,” Zero says, and hands the bowl to Mirror without even looking.  
   
“Gives me the damn creeps how you do that without a mouth,” he can hear Glen muttering, and snaps out of his pensive state to see Mirror lowering the drink, amusement flickering across his visor.  
   
“I apologize that we of the second dimension are so beyond you.”  
   
Jean-bot makes a sound that almost resembles a snort. “Please. He’s just angry because he wants to kiss you and doesn’t know how.”  
   
Glen makes a lunge for Jean-bot, flames roaring at full blast, undoubtedly ready to put them in a headlock, but Zero grabs him by the wrist and plunks him back down on to the sand once more.  
   
“Forget that for a second,” he says. “How is Jean supposed to be part of this? I mean…”  
   
“They’re not exactly capable of consuming things like we are,” Mirror finishes, glancing down at the chieftain inquiringly.  
   
The creature beams up at them (at least Zero is fairly sure they’re smiling) and says something in their melodic language, pointing from the bowl to the ocean and back again.  
   
“…I see,” Jean-bot says. “A symbolic offering, then?”  
   
They get up from the dune they were resting against, joints whirring, and wade a little ways into the jade green surf before gently pouring their share into the water. A beat, and then they straighten up as if struck by a bolt of electricity, spinning around to stare at Zero and the other two in astonishment.  
   
“I can taste it,” they say. “I’ve never tasted anything before, but I – I can. Somehow. The light, and the space dust, and something… burnt?”  
   
Zero blinks. This is getting odder by the moment. He looks down once more at the congregation of denizens, who have all started conversing excitedly, a few of them singing, even, a few others off to the side tossing glossy purple flower petals into the air. The chieftain in particular looks incredibly thrilled, and without thinking Zero flashes them a bemused thumbs up (the humans really have been rubbing off on him lately).  
   
He can only hope that’s not some sort of offensive gesture on this planet.  
   
  
   
  
   
He wakes to open sky above him and the back of his head resting uncomfortably on the hard metal of Jean-bot’s thigh.  
   
“Jean,” he says, and their systems boot up in an instant, eyes flickering on and peering down at him.  
   
“If you’re planning out how to leave on the sly without offending the natives, I believe now would be an opportune moment,” they say.  
   
Zero grins. “You know me too well.”  
   
He pushes himself up into a sitting position. Glen’s feet are tangled with his own, and Zero shakes him by the ankle as he extracts himself, hearing a muffled “whuzzit?” noise and the whoosh of flames a moment later. Waking Glen is always a simple enough matter.  
   
On the other hand.  
   
“He’s just not very good at mornings, is he,” Jean-bot muses. They’ve already splashed cold seawater in Mirror’s face – he’s technically awake, and yet still so muzzy with sleep (and petulant, too, everyone’s _favorite_ Mirror Mood) that Zero is supporting him with his shoulder.  
   
“They must be real lax about these things back in Esmeralda, is all I can say,” Zero mutters. “Who’s ever heard of a royal guard being allowed to sleep in?”  
   
Flying with Mirror in tow is awkward at best, but all the same it feels good to escape the watery planet’s heavy atmosphere, emerging into the vacant blackness of space with a sigh of relief.  
   
“Where to?” Glen says. He’s still working out the kinks in his shoulders after sleeping awkwardly in the sand. “Back to base, or should we…”  
   
His words trail off gradually into nothing. He’s staring at Zero’s forearm, and Zero glances down as well to see something there against the red and blue. A marking. Four thin black bands, with intricate swirls and zigzags connecting them like a web of dark lace. It resembles a tattoo, almost, except that can’t be it because there is no ink in the universe that can mark an Ultra’s skin. Zero frowns. Mirror is finally coming around, and Zero drops him unceremoniously in order to rub at the marking with his free hand.  
   
“What the hell is this?” he says, when his attempts yield no change.  
   
“I have one too, it seems,” Jean-bot says. They hold their hand out to reveal the same strange pattern written across their fingers. “And if I’m not mistaken…”  
   
They point at Glen, and Zero follows their line of sight, moving in close to find the pattern curving around his neck like a collar.  
   
“What?” Glen says, sounding somewhat panicked. He lifts a hand to touch the marking unwittingly. “Don’t tell me I got it too… If y’all are getting marked by death you can leave me the hell out of it, alright?”  
   
“Somehow I highly doubt that’s what’s happening,” Mirror says, floating back up to join them. His voice sounds a bit muddled and hazy but otherwise he seems to have finally collected himself. “Though I’m not sure if I have any real theories. I have one too, by the way.” He gestures downwards, and sure enough Zero can see those four black bands encircling his ankle.  
   
“This entire mission has been weird from the start,” Glen mutters.  
   
“Oh please,” Jean-bot says. “You were fine with it up until five minutes ago.”  
   
In the end they establish that none of them feels any worse for having the marking. (Zero would go as far as to say that he feels better, even. A brighter version of the self that came to this planet two days past. Something about looking at that delicate pattern fills him with a strange sense of contentment.) And with that said there is little to do but shrug and accept it for the time being, no matter how “creeped out” Glen might be by it.  
   
Check up on the neighboring planets, head back to base, and worry about this new development later. Zero never did claim to be one for complicated plans.  
   
The planet closest to the tropical tourist trap is a sparsely-settled one: mostly untouched forests of towering red trees, with golden leaves the size of Zero’s palm. Still, he manages to find a wandering caravan parked along a clear, winding river, and is relieved when an old woman there speaks a language he’s familiar with.  
   
“No, no,” she says, shaking her head, her five arms not even pausing in their knitting as she blinks up at him. “No trouble around these parts. Could probably use some, if I’m bein’ honest. Nice o’ you to ask, though. And many blessings to you for your marriage.”  
   
Zero opens his mouth and then closes it again.  
   
“My what?”  
   
She points to the pattern on his forearm. “Your marriage. You just had the ceremony over on Nilau, didn’t you?” Upon reading the confusion that is undoubtedly written across his face, her mouth splits into a smile. “Ohh, I see. Well you’re not the first to accidentally fall into a marriage over there, I can tell you that much. Those Nilauans are notorious for it. They love havin’ a reason to celebrate, and what better than a wedding?  
   
“I wouldn’t worry your pretty head about it,” she continues. “‘S not legally binding anywhere other than that strange little planet. And the marks’ll fade in a week or so if you want them to. But still… I’ve heard the Nilauans are choosy. No matter how much they love a good party, they’ll only marry those that have a real bond. They’ve got a way of sensing it, somehow. So who knows,” she laughs, “it might be worth sticking with it: this marriage you fell headlong into.”  
   
  
   
  
   
The other three found this forested planet about as quiet as he did.  
   
“Although someone did say ‘congratulations’ to me apropos of nothing,” Jean-bot murmurs, tapping a finger against their arm pensively. “I wonder what they meant by that.”  
   
“I wonder,” Zero echoes, trying to bite back the laugh that’s threatening at the back of his throat.  
   
“On to the next, then?” Mirror says, and the three of them turn towards the blue sphere glowing faintly in the distance.  
   
“Hey,” Zero says. “Do you guys love me?”  
   
All three of them stop, glancing back at him over their shoulders with varying degrees of bewilderment.  
   
“Obviously,” Mirror says, hardly missing a beat.  
   
“Of course,” Jean-bot says a second later.  
   
They all turn to look at Glen.  
   
“That’s – oh, c’mon! You know I’m not into that sappy shit,” he grumbles. He ducks his head, palming the back of his neck in embarrassment, before quietly adding: “But yeah, I guess.”  
   
Zero smiles wide; reaches out to punch Glen affectionately in the shoulder. “Same here,” he says, and wonders, for a moment, if the mark on his arm will ever truly fade.


End file.
